


The Duke's Son and The Captain

by merrimacmines



Series: Tales from Cordesia [2]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Ambiguous location, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Consensual Non-Consent, Drama, Fictional Kingdoms, Forbidden Love, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Romance, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Homoeroticism, Homosexuality, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Middle Ages, Nobility, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Renaissance Era, Romance, Smut, Spanking, ambiguous time period, anywhere from 1200 - 1500, historical gay romance, hot with a plot, m/m romance, over twenty years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29121357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrimacmines/pseuds/merrimacmines
Summary: Captain Erik Thaxton is ordered to guard the son of one of the most hated Dukes in the kingdom. As he escorts the young man across the countryside to meet with his father, Erik must deal with one of the most spoiled, selfish, and arrogant men he's ever met.And also the most irresistible.Tristian Miles cannot stand being ordered around by the Captain. He's the son of a Duke! And should be treated as such! But during his journey across the kingdom to be with his mother and father, he begins to find the Captain's rugged appearance and rough tone is precisely what he's craving.============================================================================M/M Romance | Explicit Sexual Content | Next update: TBD============================================================================Thank you for reading!
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Tales from Cordesia [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136735
Comments: 21
Kudos: 26





	1. Prologue

Tristian Miles wandered into the study late in the evening.

He sauntered past the shelves of bound books and neatly stacked scrolls. He strolled casually over to the fireplace, feeling the heat upon his skin, and dragged his finger across the mantle. The candles and the metalwork holders fell over like a stack of cards, clanging loudly, and one candle fell onto the stone floor. It snapped in half and rolled towards the large desk and the man sitting behind it.

The man, wearing the black flowing cloak of an instructor and a scowl upon his handsome face, stood up from the desk. “What are you doing in here?”

Tristian lifted his chin. “Whatever I wish.”

Flashing the instructor a look of defiance, Tristian went to the far end of the study and began yanking bound books from the shelves and tossing them on a nearby velvet chair.

“Stop that!” The instructor demanded.

Tristian ignored him. He reached an elegant hand from his tall frame higher to a shelf full of scrolls. He began grabbing those one by one and flinging each one behind him onto the floor.

“I am warning you…,” the instructor growled.

“Are you?” Tristian turned and swaggered over to the desk. He lifted the quill the instructor had been using and twirled it between his fingers. “And what is the warning…Lionel?”

The instructor’s stormy gray eyes narrowed. The nostrils of his perfect nose flared. “How dare you address me so informally!”

Tristian tilted his head with a challenge, rolling the quill between his thumb and forefinger. “I am the son of a Duke, _Lionel_ , and I shall address you however I wish.” He punctuated the last word by snapping the quill in half.

Lionel rounded the desk in an instant. “You wicked, _wicked_ boy!” He hovered over Tristian menacingly. “You have been disobedient and disrespectful!” He jabbed a finger towards the shelves. “Look at what you have done!”

Tristian laughed and crossed his arms. “I can do as I please and will continue to do so. There is nothing you can do about it.”

In a flash, Lionel’s hand came out from under his cloak, snatching Tristian’s wrist. Before Tristian could gasp he was spun around and bent over the instructor’s desk. Lionel twisted Tristian’s arm, pinning it behind his back.

Tristian’s sapphire-blue eyes widened, his heart began to pound, and blood rushed into his cock. Lionel’s muscular form leaned over him, placing a hand in front of Tristian’s face while the other clutched his wrist.

Lionel’s breath tickled over the outer coil of Tristian’s ear. “There is plenty that I can do…”

Tristian groaned and bit his lip. Lionel pressed against him, his crotch against Tristian’s arse and Tristian could feel the bulge of Lionel’s prick. He wiggled a little against the man’s body and the man only tightened his grip and leaned harder to keep him still.

“You need only say it.” The tip of Lionel’s tongue flicked Tristian’s earlobe. “Say it…say what you want…”

“Yes,” Tristian panted. “I want it…,”He turned his head slightly to brush his lips against Lionel’s, and his voice came out a breathy whisper. “Punish me.”

Lionel growled with arousal and reached for the waist of Tristian’s breeches. Quickly, Tristian reached into the tight space between his crotch and the desk to untie them. His hand lingered, wanting to stroke his cock so badly, when he felt Lionel roughly yank down his breeches to his ankles, exposing his naked arse.

Tristian whimpered as the cool air of the study brushed over his exposed skin. He felt Lionel’s rough, warm palm rub over one arse cheek and then the other, deliberately slow and easy, and then his fingers gripped Tristian’s flesh.

Tristian let out another groan. “Please. Oh, please…punish me!”

Then Tristian cried out as he felt Lionel’s hand smack his naked arse. And then again. And again. The sound of his flesh being spanked and the sting upon this skin made Tristian’s moans of pleasure fill the room. Lionel spanked him harder, making Tristian’s cock swell painfully. A thin stream of dew leaked from the tip onto the stone floor as he was punished, Lionel’s hand on his wrist gripping tighter.

“I will teach you,” Lionel growled, his palm slapping Tristian’s flesh. “You are a wicked boy and you must learn!”

Then suddenly Lionel stopped his spanking and Tristian closed his eyes, trembling with want. He could hear Lionel panting behind him, and then the rough palm of his hand gliding over his flesh. Tristian’s cock was painfully hard. He began to move his free hand to his crotch, when Lionel leaned over him again.

“Have you learned your lesson?” His breath warmed Tristian’s ear.

“Yes,” Tristian moaned, and then, “No. No! I have not learned! I am defiant, and must be corrected.”

“Yes you must,” Lionel hissed.

Behind him, Tristian could feel Lionel moving his instructor’s cloak aside, and then after a moment or two felt the warm, hard flesh of Lionel’s cock pressing into the crease of his arse. Sticky dew dripped from the tip and Tristian lifted his hips, practically near begging. The exotic and sensual scent of oil filled his nostrils as Lionel one-handedly slathered it on his cock and slicked some around Tristian’s opening. The act made him tremble with desire, and he moaned with impatience.

Before the sound could even fade, Lionel breached Tristian’s entrance roughly, shoving in his oiled cock, and Tristian’s groan morphed into a cry. Lionel gave him two slow thrusts before he began pumping in earnest. Guttural groans escaped Tristian’s lips as Lionel’s pace quickened.

“And now have you learned, wicked boy,” the man rasped. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“No,” Tristian gasped out. “I need more. More!”

And Lionel gave him more.

He released the wrist he’d held to Tristian’s back. Tristian’s arm began to tingle, and he reached both hands to the other side of the desk to hold on as he was fucked over it like a dog. Lionel leaned over him, pressing down upon him, his instructor’s cloak falling around their joined hips.

Tristian felt the man’s breath upon his neck. “Oh…oh, Tristian…” His voice broke as he neared his climax.

“Lionel…yes…punish me, Lionel…” Tristian braced himself, wanting so much to feel Lionel’s seed inside him. He groaned and felt the man’s fingers in his thick golden hair. Lionel lifted his head, pressing a hard kiss to the side of his jaw, his hips rocking against Tristian’s arse harder. Faster.

“What is this!” Came a roar from the doorway.

Tristian yelped as Lionel released his head and pulled out of him nearly at once. Tristian turned to see the Headmaster in the doorway, his graying hair slicked back from his forehead, which was furrowed and wrinkled in shock and rage.

“Oh no…,” Tristian whimpered.

“Master Lionel!” The Headmaster shouted, his wrinkled lips pulling into a sour pinch of disgust. “What _filth_ …what…what… _unnatural_ relations is this? And with a pupil!”

For a few moments all Tristian could do was remain bent over the desk, his bare arse for all to see, while Lionel tried to hide his naked cock with the cloak.

The Headmaster stormed forward and snatched Tristian by the arm. “Come along, and pull up your breeches, for God’s sake!”

Tristian yanked up his pants, holding the front, as he was pulled away. The Headmaster paused in the doorway, whipping Tristian around as he turned to Lionel.

“You will leave at once,” he demanded. “And you will thank your lucky stars that the basis for your sudden departure will remain a secret matter. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes,” Lionel replied weakly.

As Tristian was dragged away, he reached for the man he’d wanted, and the man reached back. And Tristian knew as he looked into those stormy eyes one last time, bleary with tears, that he would never see them again. And Tristian knew by the way the Headmaster pulled him down the halls with the strength of a man twenty years his junior, that he would not get another reprieve.

Tristian knew that this time was the final time, and all he could think as he tried not to mourn this new loss of many he’d suffered in his eighteen years, all he could wonder was:

_I am caught…again?_


	2. Chapter 2

Captain Erik Thaxton rode up to the Duke of Sayne’s estate cautiously.

He and his men had opted to arrive at dusk and to come around to the manor at separate points to get a better idea of what they were dealing with. But as Erik rode up, approaching the giant manor house from the south, he saw that the Duke and Duchess had perhaps been exaggerating.

He’d been expecting a mob, complete with torches and spears, breaking windows and setting fire to the stables. Instead, the dark and quiet house loomed in front of him and all he heard was the occasional tune of a nightingale. The place appeared completely empty and the land around them perfectly calm.

Janson, one of his men, rode up from the eastern side and joined him.

“Did you see anything?” Erik asked.

Janson shook his head. “Nothing at all.”

“Hmm.”

Erik and Janson rode to the front of the manor, joining the other men in their little Guardian quintet. They may have been few, but thus far they’d successfully protected several of the great families and nobles in the kingdom. Escorting and personal protection was their specialty. Unfortunately, it was only the cruelest and vilest in the kingdom that needed protection. Erik had known as soon as he’d met the Duke and his awful wife that they were hated.

And soon they would find out about their son.

“Did anyone see anything?” Erik asked, and the other men shook their heads in turn.

“Thought I saw someone creeping about,” said Able, the youngest of their group. “But it turned out to be a hedgehog.”

“Perhaps the hedgehog is planning the uprising,” Orion chuckled. Aside from Erik, he was the oldest member of their group. “His Grace angers even the little creatures of the forest.”

The other men laughed along and in spite of himself, Erik felt a grin tugging at his mouth. But he quickly shifted his focus back to the task at hand. “The lad is supposed to be expecting us.” He turned to look up at the large manor house. “It seems there’s no one home at all.”

The manor house was one of the finest and oldest in the kingdom and it just made Erik angry. The foundation was still made of stone for when a castle stood there during the days of the ancient kings. But a battle had destroyed the castle and the manor house was built in its place. People in the nearby village of Nesworth liked to say the land had been stolen from them by the gentry. There were miles and miles of caverns where precious gems were mined. Of course, the gentry wanted those mines under their control. Erik didn’t want to admit that he sided with the villagers.

“If there’s no one here,” said Able, “should we search for the boy?”

Before Erik could reply, the entrance opened and out came a flurry of servants carrying bags, and boxes, and trunks. The men wore doublets with the family crest and appeared dressed for travel. Stunned, Erik dismounted from his horse and his men did the same. Erik went to approach one of the servants, but an image caught in his periphery, and he turned to see a young man standing in the front doorway. Before his eyes could drink him in fully, before he could blink, before a word could be spoken, the eyes of the young man, like two cool and heavy sapphires, met Erik’s own eyes and the young man’s gaze went straight through him and right to his crotch.

Even Erik’s men were momentarily astounded by the young man’s appearance. He was perhaps the most beautiful creature Erik had ever seen. His thick flaxen hair framed his lovely face in perfect waves. His bright blue eyes sat within a face of creamy fair skin that blushed with health. The plump lips of his mouth contained the phantom of a smirk, and Erik’s gaze moved down to the young man’s long elegant neck, his broad shoulders and chest, his long limbs and slim hips, and then Erik had to tear his gaze away lest it travel any further south.

“I thought the Duke’s son was a mere child,” muttered Blaine, another in their group.

Erik had thought so, too. The way the Duke and Duchess had spoken of their son, Tristian Miles, it seemed he was much younger. As Erik approached, Tristian’s bright eyes narrowed, his plump lips frowned, and his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Perhaps they had not meant his physical age, Erik thought irritably, but his spirit.

“Are you the ones come to escort me?” Tristian snapped. “I expected you hours ago. You have inconvenienced me greatly.”

Erik stopped short a moment, then he gestured to the servants around them. “What is all this?”

“What do you mean ‘all this’?” Tristian mocked. “Can’t you see?”

Erik felt a flash of irritation. “You cannot bring these things with you. Just what you can carry on one horse.”

Tristian huffed. With a knowing smile crossing his lips, he sauntered over to Eric. “I will bring what I want, and I will have my attendants with me,” he looked Erik over,”mister…?”

“Captain.” Erik retorted. “Captain Erik Thaxton.”

“Well, Captain. Surely, you do not expect the son of a Duke to travel with no comforts of home or his attendants, do you? After all, my parents would be displeased if they were to hear I was mistreated.”

“Have all your servants put those things back inside,” Erik replied sternly. “You will have no attendants and only what you can fit on one horse. This is not the time for traveling in style.”

Tristian stepped closer. He was tall and sturdy, but Erik took comfort that he was taller and sturdier.

Tristian’s knowing smile became a sneer. “I will travel in the way that I am accustomed to, which means I shall have my attendants and everything I need. If you will take issue with thus, Captain, then I suggest you adjust your expectations.”

Erik should have known he’d be dealing with a spoiled brat. All their lot was spoiled, petty, and caused others nothing but strife. Erik knew. His own brother had suffered and died because of them. He took a step towards the young man, and was pleased to see the bravado in his expression falter. Erik guessed he was many years older than the Duke’s son. At nine and thirty, Erik had certainly had many experiences with the nobility to know they were all cowards underneath their prideful selves.

“Well then, good sir,” Erik said evenly. “Then I suppose our services are not as needed as His Grace, your father, implied.” He tipped his hat. “We shall bid you a good evening.”

As Erik and his men went to mount their horses, he saw the sneer fall from Tristian’s face.

“You cannot leave,” the young man said, striding towards them as they turned their horses to go. “It is dangerous for me to travel without a proper escort.”

Erik heard Orion and Able chuckle behind him. “Look around, young sir.” Erik did so himself, looking this way and that. “It appears your father was mistaken. The people of Nesworth have no quarrel with you. It is your father they despise, and he has gone away as they wanted.”

Tristian stood by Erik’s horse, looking up at him in disbelief. “There are thieves on the roads. I will have my entire retinue with no one to protect us.”

It was Erik’s turn to smirk. “Perhaps you should arm your attendants, for it seems you are determined to carry such valuable and important items with you, so you should give them all swords. Like mine.” Erik patted where his was sheathed at his side.

Tristian’s eyes narrowed in rage, and Erik had had enough of the boy. He turned his horse with his men turning to follow him when Tristian grabbed his horse’s bridle, stopping him. The horse tossed its head and snorted in surprise.

“My father has paid you handsomely,” Tristian said haughtily. “Just wait until I arrive and appear before him, beaten, tired, and dirty. I will tell him you abandoned me. That you took the money he paid you to escort me and ran off. That you and your men are thieves.”

Erik wanted to laugh. He wanted to hop off his horse, get in the face of this impossible, arrogant, and undeniably beautiful little fool and laugh in his face.

Erik glanced over to Able and Blaine who were both glowering at Tristian’s audacity. They looked ready to dismount and shove him away.

“It is true,” Erik replied coolly, surveying the small audience of attendants that stood quietly close to the manor. And also pretending not to listen. “Your father has paid us. But he has only paid us half of our price. The other half we will collect once we deliver you safely. Your father will simply be out of a deposit for our services, which we attempted to render, but were prevented.” Erik leaned down to whisper. “There are plenty of witnesses to thus, and you will think of it now, if you know what is good for you.”

Tristian’s hard gaze faded for only a moment before it intensified. “You would not dare leave me unprotected. My father will hear of it. He will be sure your name will be blackened throughout the kingdom!”

This time Erik did laugh. He turned to his men. “Come along. His lordship has prepared his own travels, and we are not needed.”

Tristian still had hold of the bridle. He tugged, keeping Erik’s horse from moving.

The young man’s expression appeared defeated, but his gaze was vicious. “Fine. I will take only one attendant with me, and one trunk of clothing.”

Erik drew his mouth into a thin line behind his beard. “No attendants. No trunks.”

For a second it looked as if Tristian would argue again, but instead he let go of the bridle and whipped around. “Get back inside! All of you!” The servants quickly obeyed. “You must stay behind and wait for my return.” Tristian turned to Erik. “I expect the good Captain will allow me to send word.”

Erik gave him a curt nod.

One attendant brought a horse around the front while Tristian halted one from taking a wooden chest back inside. Tristian opened it and dug through it, pulling out clothing, a mirror, a small yew box, and another larger box. He stuffed everything into a large satchel for another attendant to tie to his horse. Erik watched as Tristian tucked the larger box under his arm and an attendant came over to help him into the saddle.

It appeared to Erik that Tristian intended to carry the box while he rode. He opened his mouth to speak, but the young man rode up beside him, his eyes flashing.

“I will not part with it.” He nodded to the box. “Say what you will, Captain, but I will carry it all the way in my own hands if I must.” He inclined his head to his servants carrying all his other things back inside. “I believe I have minimized my necessities accordingly.”

Erik sighed. “Very well, sir.” He turned to his men, who took their places surrounding Tristian on either side and in the rear. “Let us be off then.”

As they rode away into the night, Erik leading them, he could swear he felt the heat from the young man’s gaze on his skin.


	3. Chapter 3

Not even an hour into the journey and Tristian was weary.

He wanted to believe it was because night had fallen and he would normally be asleep. But Tristian knew he would not be sleeping at this time. Nor anytime really. Not since his banishment from the academy and his return home.

The Headmaster sent a message to Tristian’s father. Tristian expected there to be a carriage sent to bring him home where he would be cast aside after a flurry of shame and rage, and then perhaps sent to the caverns to labor like a convict. But no carriage came. Tristian grew anxious, worried it meant his mother and father were finished with him for good. There would be no message and no way home for they never intended on seeing him again. In spite of how he loathed his parents, it hurt him deeply. No message in parting for their only son.

The Headmaster sent another message and this time a carriage did show up. It was driven by a man Tristian did not recognize. He told Tristian he was a newly appointed servant in their household and had not seen the Duke or Duchess in weeks. For the first time, Tristian worried about his parents.

As Tristian rode through the village, rocks were thrown at the carriage and people jeered at him. When Tristian arrived home, the manor was in chaos. The servants were anxious and did not know what to do without their master and mistress about. At last, the household chamberlain nervously relayed to Tristian the tensions between his father and the Earl of Lawter.

“The people have abandoned your father,” the man said nervously. “The King sent his Guard to quell the unrest, but…your father did not keep his promise to the King.”

Tristian shook with a mixture of fury and fear. “What did he do?”

The chamberlain advised that the Duke had gambled and taken lands from the people in Nesworth to pay his debts. The Duke laughed off their complaints, sent people to jail for trespass, and the people went to the Earl of Lawter with their outrage. The Earl and Tristian’s father had bad blood between them for ages, so the Earl took no issue with siding with the villagers. The Earl himself had been accused of treachery towards the villagers in the past, but Tristian knew the Earl used the complaint to go against his father. The chamberlain explained that villagers had surrounded the property, demanding the Duke and Duchess emerge. No one would help the Duke and Duchess, so in the middle of the night they fled, only taking a few things with them. The chamberlain found out later that they’d gone to Lord Dalston’s estate to take refuge.

Tristian was angry at his parents, but hurt, too. They hadn’t thought to send word to him that any of this had occurred. Then, shortly after Tristian’s return, his parents finally sent word that they were dispatching escorts to bring Tristian to them at Lord Dalston’s. Tristian was anxious, but also furious. His parents did not know he’d been sent home from school in disgrace; they’d completely forgotten he was there. But he tried to see it as a relief. His parents didn’t know what he’d done.

His relief was short-lived, however, when the handsome and rugged Captain arrived. Tristian had stood by the front window while his attendants packed up his things. In the dusk, he saw the Captain come riding up to his house. He saw long sandy hair under his cap and the chestnut beard. He saw piercing turquoise eyes gazing up at the manor. He saw the way the Captain rode his horse, tall and strong, and Tristian hated how appealing it all was to him.

Even now as they rode along with only the half-moonlight to guide them, Tristian found himself staring at the back of the Captain. At the hair bound at the nape of his neck, his head turning every so often to observe their surroundings, and the tall way he rode upon the horse. Tristian was angry at himself and angry with the Captain for making him feel so…attracted.

He shouldn’t be. He should be finding out how Lionel fared after their tryst. If there was a way for Tristian to be with the man, he would. Perhaps that was why he found the Captain so intriguing. The man reminded him of Lionel.

Tristian tried to keep the box protected as they rode along. It was difficult to hold under one arm, so he tried setting it in front of him on the saddle. He did not want to lose it. The fine box was made of elm and had been sanded and polished silky smooth. Fine hand-carvings decorated the lid and all four sides. On the inside, lined with velvet, was a gift from Tristian’s grandfather. The man had been just as ruthless and cold as his own father, but Tristian’s grandfather had cared for him. He had been kind where his father had been careless; indulgent where his father had been restrained; and caring where his father had been cruel. Tristian missed him and his grandmother. They’d died, some said, after being poisoned by the Earl of Lawter.

Tristian was staring down at the box, trying to hold it with one hand to keep it from slipping, and hold the reins with the other. It was impossible. He was going to have to find a way to fit it into his satchel.

“May we stop for a minute, Captain?” Tristian called.

The Captain turned his head slightly, the brim of his black cap catching in the moonlight. “No. We must get to the high road before midnight.”

Tristian felt instant fury. “I said only for a minute.”

“And I said no.” The Captain’s voice was calm.

A jolt of defiance ran through Tristian. He pulled his horse’s reins to a stop. Around him, the Captain’s men continued for a few feet before stopping as well.

“Come now, sir,” said one, pulling his horse to a halt. “You heard the Captain.”

They were in a country lane, about three miles from Nesworth. But they were also in a clearing and there was just enough moonlight to see by. Tristian dismounted and led his horse to the side. As he opened the satchel tied to the saddle he heard the rough sound of the Captain’s boots as he dismounted. Tristian pointedly ignored him as he approached, doing his damnedest to fit the box in the satchel.

For a moment, the Captain merely stood at Tristian’s elbow. In his periphery, Tristian could see his hard glare. Then the Captain reached out and grabbed one of Tristian’s hands. Tristian fumbled and the box fell into the grass.

“What did I say?” The Captain growled.

Tristian felt a second of tingling in his hand before he yanked it away and went to fetch the box. “Look what you have done.” He picked it up and brushed wet grass off the sides. “This is my property, and I only wanted to stop to secure it.” He shot the Captain an angry glare. “There was no need for you to manhandle me.”

In the moonlight it was difficult to see if the Captain was angry or amused. “We must continue and make our way past Nesworth. If there is any danger it would be around the outskirts of the village. We do not have time to placate your little whims.”

Tristian stuffed the box down inside the satchel, cramming it over his clothing and attempted to buckle it closed. The buckles were stretched but it would have to work.

“There,” Tristian snapped at the Captain. “Was that so difficult?”

The Captain tilted his head up slightly so that Tristian could see his turquoise eyes beneath the brim of his cap. “Next time we will ride on and leave you. Do you understand?”

Tristian huffed in response and mounted his horse.

The Captain stood by, looking up at him, waiting for him to reply, but Tristian merely held his head up, taking the reins and proceeding forward.

* * *

Erik glared at that little spoiled fool as he rode onward.

He mounted his horse and took his place in front of the riding party to continue scouting for any trouble along the lane. Truthfully, Erik did not expect any trouble from the villagers. It was thieves he worried about. Bands of them seemed to increase every year. They might well run into a few villagers who would recognize Tristian and suffer a few insults and perhaps a few thrown rocks, but robbers were the real danger.

And Erik was sure the spoiled son of a Duke would jeopardize everyone’s safety at some point.

Most of the nobles he’d escorted over the years listened to him without complaint. After all, he and his men were the ones carrying weapons. They each dressed in blacks and deep reds and kept their demeanor as intimidating as possible and it worked. Practically no one questioned them. The few who did only did so when there was a change to their route or an unplanned stop. Erik and his men knew what to look out for and took their duty to keep their clients safe seriously. Even the vilest of the vile.

Erik sighed. Even the spoiled, the defiant, and the beautiful.

Tristian was going to be trouble for him. In more ways than one. His youth reminded Erik of Ashe; someone he did not want to think about. Ashe had been just as young as Tristian when Erik met him, and their affair would have caused trouble for Erik had it been discovered. The boy was old enough to consent, but too young for Erik. Back then, his mind had been clouded and gray, desperate and unreasonable. Now it was clearer. Now he could manage better.

And still…the Duke’s son’s beauty weakened him.

For a time they all rode in silence. There was the clop-clopping of hooves. The occasional owl. The random rustle of a tree or a shrub. Erik kept vigilant. He was used to keeping odd hours, catching bits of sleep where he could. Traveling by night with Tristian was the best course. The hated Duke’s son could sneak safely through Nesworth while the villagers slept. Even though Erik did not believe the villagers were after Tristian, a mob could have formed quickly had they been spotted during the day.

As they rounded the village and it approached midnight, Erik attempted to increase their pace. He prompted his horse to a canter, but when he glanced behind him he saw Tristian had not done so, like his men. Able and Janson had slowed to keep alongside the boy. With an irritated sigh, Erik pulled the reins and his horse stopped.

“What’s the matter?” Erik snipped as Tristian approached.

“I am weary,” the young man pouted. “Might we stop for a rest?”

Exasperated, Erik scowled. “I told you when we started: we will stop and rest at daybreak. We must travel at night so you won’t be seen. I explained it to you like I explained it to your father: it is for your safety.”

“I want to rest,” Tristian demanded. He began to steer his horse off the lane. “My father has paid you to protect me and serve me. Get a blanket from your saddlebag for me to lay on. I will rest here.”

Erik’s patience was wearing thin. He was surprised he’d managed it this long. “We will rest at daybreak. We are not stopping.”

Tristian steered his horse to a clearing. He dismounted and began tying the horse to a tree.

That was it. Erik had lost all patience with the boy.

He gestured to Janson who was the closest and he picked up one side of Tristian while Erik grabbed the other.

“What are you doing?” Tristian raged, twisting and jerking to get out of their grasp.

Together, Erik and Jason lifted the brat back onto his horse. Tristian cursed and swore at them, but Erik ignored him, untying the horse from the tree, and leading it over to his own. He held onto the reins as he got back into the saddle, Tristian cursing him all the while.

Erik was surprised to feel an urge not altogether unfamiliar, but new just the same. He imagined disciplining Tristian, bending him over his lap and giving him a good spanking. Striking the boy's arse with his hand, while Tristian wriggled and cried out. Erik felt his cock grow hard.

“You scoundrels!” The brat whined. “How dare you manhandle me! If I find a bruise, I will tell my father how you have treated me, how you have—”

“Enough!” Erik roared, his voice echoing in the empty woods. He cared not if he was heard by a band of thieves. At this point, he would hand the idiot over to them. “You will be silent this instant! Or I will tie you to your horse and stuff my cap into your mouth and present you to your father as thus!”

Erik must have looked menacing, for Tristian’s fair cheeks flushed in the moonlight and he shrank back. For a split-second, guilt snaked its way into Erik’s mind. He felt self-conscious for losing his temper, but he would not tolerate the little fool’s disrespect. And his cock twitched at the thought of Tristian obeying him. 

“Now,” Erik said, his tone softer but still firm. “We shall continue until daybreak. Then we shall stop at an inn for a proper rest and some food. Understood?”

Tristian’s jaw clenched. His fists bunched. He nodded his head once.

Erik kept hold of Tristian’s horse and his own and led them onward.

* * *

Hours passed and Erik spent most of his time listening around them and listening to Tristian’s huffing and puffing and muttering.

He complained of being tired, complained of having to piss, complained of being thirsty. Able, who rode on the other side of Tristian, offered Tristian his gourd filled with water. Tristian cursed him and then took the gourd and drank. The young man then crossed his arms and pouted.

Erik’s annoyance with him grew, but in a strange way he found it amusing. And a shame. A damn shame that someone so beautiful, so exquisitely made, was so horrid. It would be a relief to drop him off to his parents, but Erik was sure the image of him would stay in his mind for a long time to come.

Finally, as the sky began to lighten, Erik led them to an inn. The smell of fresh hay and woodsmoke penetrated the morning air, and Erik let his muscles relax. The journey to Lord Dalston’s would take about five days if they continued with the pace they were at now.

And Erik would be counting down the hours.

And all his forbidden thoughts of Tristian.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was almost up when they went to their rooms.

Erik sighed in the cramped quarters and ate the bread and cheese the innkeeper’s wife had brought them. The ale he let sit and drank from his water gourd instead. The tiny serving table, a hearth, and a bed were all there was room for. The inn was not crowded, but he’d used some of the deposit the Duke had given him to pay for a larger room for Tristian. There were two beds, and because Able was around the same age as Tristian, Erik put him in the other bed. He could not let Tristian sleep alone. Partially for his own safety, and partially because Erik did not trust him. It was for the boy’s own good. Even though he might fuss and curse, it was for—

Suddenly, there were three loud knocks on Erik’s door before it crashed open. Red-faced, and fists clenched, Tristian stormed inside.

“How dare you put me in the same room as one of your ruffians!” Tristian pointed across the hall to Able, who lingered in the doorway, clutching his cap in both hands. “I will not endure it!”

Erik calmly wiped breadcrumbs from his beard with a napkin and sat back in the chair. “You cannot have your own room. I do not find you trustworthy and the people of Nesworth find your father repulsive. I swore to him you would be guarded day and night, and I must keep my word.”

“Then place him outside of the door!” Tristian pointed. “Let him guard me that way! I will not share! I am the son of a Duke!”

Erik lifted his eyes to look at the outraged fool. In the doorway, Blaine, Janson, and Orion had gathered, all three with looks of outright disgust on their faces. They each exchanged a glance with one another and with Erik - might they drag the raving brat away from him?

Erik lightly shook his head and stood. He moved in front of Tristian, bringing himself up to his full height, and nearing so close to the boy their noses almost touched. “Return to your room and rest.” His voice was a low growl, but calm. “You whined about it enough on the way, so now is your chance. Able will be sleeping in the other bed and not outside of the door like a dog. You will show him the greatest respect, and I suggest you keep your little shit-mouth shut or I’ll have the innkeeper place you in the stables.”

Tristian’s lovely sapphire eyes narrowed to slits. His plump lips pinched together. He turned on his heel and stormed back into the room. He brushed passed Able, knocking the young man aside with his shoulder. Able rolled his eyes, gave Erik a nod, and closed the door.

“God’s Death,” Janson muttered. “What a creature. I almost want to leave him behind.”

“Do we _really_ need that old bird’s money?” Orion sniffed. “I hardly think it’s worth it.”

Before Blaine could add his complaints, Erik held up his hands. “We shall do as we promised. The Duke might be hated, but he is still quite powerful. We’ll deposit his son, get our money, and be on our way.”

The three men looked glum, but they nodded.

“Four more days,” Erik said.

“Thanks be to God,” Blaine mumbled before leaving to go to his room.

* * *

Erik was removing his boots, feeling the exhaustion settling into his bones, when there was a shout.

He opened the door and listened. Across the hall, in Tristian’s and Able’s room, the shouting increased. Furious, exhausted, and once more losing his patience, Erik burst into the room.

Tristian was on one side, Able on the other, Tristian shouting at the young man, demanding that he stay on his side and come nowhere near his own.

Erik did not ask for an explanation, did not want one, did not need one. “Out!” He ordered Able, pointing to his room across the hall.

Able gladly stormed out of the room, Erik shut the door behind him, and turned to face the brat.

“I will not say it again: Go. To. Bed.” Erik enunciated each word with a step towards Tristian, whose face flamed up red once he saw what Erik had done. “I am warning you. Undress yourself and lie down. You will greatly regret this when we depart his evening.”

Tristian looked horrified, wrapping his arms around himself. “I will _not_ undress.”

Erik began to undo the laces of his own black doublet. Tristian’s eyes widened and his cheeks reddened. Erik stared into the young man’s flashing blue eyes as he placed his doublet in a basket. He untied the front of his own undershirt and pulled it up over his head, placing that in the basket as well, and then untying the front of his own breeches. Tristian shifted uncomfortably, his little shit-mouth silenced, but he did not remove his gaze as Erik dropped his breeches and stepped out of them.

Erik stood before the little brat completely nude, his large cock dangling between his legs, his broad chest dappled with chestnut hair. For a moment Erik stood still, letting the little fool get a good look at him, then he strode forward and began to remove Tristian’s clothes.

“What are you doing?” Tristian shouted, pushing Erik’s hands away, but Erik pushed him up against the wall and tugged off his undershirt and breeches, stripping him down until he was nude as well.

Tristian tried to cover himself with his arms, but Erik pressed his naked body up against him. And the little fool was just as beautiful naked, muscular and lean, as if he were an archer or a sportsman. Erik liked the feel of his hard, smooth chest against his. He had to halt the thoughts of running his tongue all over Tristian’s body, tasting every inch.

“Will you shut your mouth now and obey my commands?” Erik hissed.

Tristian’s eyes were wide with shock, but slowly his expression began to change, his eyes narrowing, a sneer forming. “I am the son of a Duke. You must obey _me_.”

Erik grabbed Tristian by the arm and pulled him over to the bed. Erik sat upon it and pulled Tristian over his lap, his bare arse over one knee, his thick cock rubbing against Erik’s leg. Tristian wiggled and tried to get free, but Erik held him down and began to strike his arse with his hand.

“You act like a spoiled little fool,” Erik shouted. “And I shall treat you as thus!”

Tristian cursed and tried to pull away, but Erik spanked him harder and harder until Tristian’s delicate white skin was turning red, and his curses turned into moans of pleasure. Erik could feel the young man’s cock hardening against him.

Erik ceased his spanking, feeling his own cock harden as well. He slipped his fingers between the boy’s legs and brushed them over his entrance.

“Have you ever been fucked?” Erik whispered.

Tristian grunted and tried to get up, but Erik held him down.

“Answer me.”

“It is none of your concern! Let me up you scoundrel!”

Erik snatched Tristian’s chin and tilted his head up. He leaned down to whisper into his ear, “If you do not behave, I will hand you over to your father thoroughly fucked and filled with my spend.”

Tristian’s harsh breaths shook. “You are nothing but a ruffian! An animal! I care not what you say!”

Erik pushed Tristian off his lap and onto the rugs. He stood and grabbed the boy by his fine flaxen hair, pulling him up on his knees.

“How dare you insult me,” Tristian exclaimed. “I will tell my father of how you struck me! I will tell him of how you spoke to me, and how —”

Erik fed his cock into Tristian’s open mouth mid-curse. Tristian’s lovely eyes widened and there were sounds of protest in his throat.

“There now,” Erik muttered. “That’s better.” He coaxed Tristian into bobbing his head, pulling his cock in and out of his mouth, until those fine plump lips latched on and began to suck eagerly, a groan escaping from his throat.

Erik fucked Tristian’s lovely mouth, finally finding a way to shut the brat up. He stroked Tristian’s soft hair encouragingly, and Tristian looked up for approval.

“Good,” Erik murmured. “You want to be a good boy for me, don’t you?”

Another groan escaped from Tristian’s throat and he sucked harder. Erik was sure his cock was not the first Tristian had sucked. He was far too good at it. So good that Erik soon felt his balls tightening and his cock twitching in Tristian’s mouth. He groaned and Tristian worked his cock with his lips and tongue, grasping at the base with his hand, a soft whimper in the back of his throat. Two more thrusts and Erik spent in his mouth. He held Tristian’s head still as he spurt his hot cream down his throat. Tristian groaned in between swallows, his hands clinging to Erik’s thighs to hold himself up.

When Erik was finished he pulled his cock from Tristian’s mouth, a string of seed stuck on Tristian’s lip. He gazed up Erik, blinking doubtfully, and licking away the seed on his lips.

“Get into bed,” Erik ordered.

Tristian was quick to comply. He got up and got into his bed, pulling the duvet over himself. Satisfied, Erik did the same. He pinched out the candle at his bedside and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

With his eyes closed, Tristian lazily reached out and felt the soft, fluffy hair.

He ran his fingers through it, combing it away from Gavin’s forehead. The boy’s hair was just as golden as his own and cropped above his ears. Tristian sighed and reached down to where Gavin’s hand grasped his cock. The slow, lazy strokes made a soft moan escape Tristian’s lips.

He reached down to finger Gavin’s hand, but the skin he felt wasn’t soft. It was rough. The palm that lazily stroked him was also rough and callused. Tristian opened his eyes to see Erik’s face, dark amber tendrils falling around his cheeks and over his intense gaze as he stroked Tristian’s cock.

Tristian gasped, but he could not move away.

“You will do as I say,” Erik muttered, his strokes getting faster.

Tristian moaned.

“Obey me,” Erik demanded, twisting his hand around the shaft, making Tristian cry out.

But when Tristian’s eyes flung open for real, it was his own hand that pumped his cock, and there was no one beside him. Tristian stopped and looked around worriedly in the dim room, finally remembering where he was. He turned around in his bed, expecting to see Erik, but the bed was empty.

Tristian saw a few candles lit on the serving table. There was bread, ale, and fruit. A fire was in the hearth, and the Captain’s clothing was folded neatly in a basket by the bedside. Tristian began to wonder if early this morning had been all part of his dream. He’d been exhausted enough. But when he saw his own clothes in a pile on the floor, he realized then it had all been real. Captain Erik had whipped him and forced his thick prick in Tristian’s mouth.

Tristian felt his own cock harden at the memory. The Captain was rough and demanding. He’d whipped Tristian for his insolence and then made Tristian suck his cock. Tristian groaned and began to stroke himself. Just then, the door opened and the Captain entered, wearing a deep red doublet, his hair damp and bound from his face. Tristian felt his heart jump, and he quickly pulled up the coverlet, though his cock ached to be touched.

The Captain peered down at him with a smirk. “Sleep well?”

Tristian felt his cheeks grow warm. “Yes. I suppose.”

“Would you like to bathe?” The Captain asked as he took a sip from his water gourd.

For some reason, that made Tristian’s face heat even more. “Yes, er…,” He sat up and eyed the serving table. “I’d like to eat first, though. If there is time.”

The Captain gazed down at him with a look on his face something like triumph. He gestured to the table, and Tristian got out of bed. His feet were bare and cold and he was instantly irritated. Had his attendants been allowed to come, he could have his slippers and robe. He glanced over at the Captain and noticed he was watching him. Tristian’s thoughts flashed to last night, the naked Captain standing before him. Strong, masculine, and breath-taking.

And his cock.

Oh, his cock!

Thick and long, it dangled between his strong legs, with the foreskin pulled over the tip. And then it was in Tristian’s mouth and he was swallowing the Captain’s salty and bitter spend. Tristian had to exert control over himself lest he involuntarily lick his lips. The man was sturdily built with a broad chest and a dusting of dark hairs over his torso and legs that made Tristian want to feel them brushing against his naked skin. But his cock…Tristian had tried not to think of it in his hand…deep inside of him…fucking him good. It was familiar, yet unfamiliar. The fantasies and his experiences away at the academy.

Tristian did not know until he was sent away to school that other boy’s cocks did not look like his. The males in his family had always been circumcised. His father claimed it was a sign of their virility and nobility. Tristian was embarrassed until Gavin came along. The boy was the son of a Baron, and befriended Tristian, in spite of how rude and sour Tristian was to everyone. Gavin had been kind, and Tristian did not know it was wrong to want another boy; to long for him, to want to touch him, so Tristian showed Gavin affection. At first, the boy was taken aback and ashamed. But one night, Gavin came to Tristian’s bed, curled up beside him and told him how beautiful he was. Tristian held Gavin in his arms and kissed him until the sun came up. It went on and on until soon they were undressing one another, and Tristian was afraid to let Gavin see his prick.

But Gavin did not recoil. In fact, Gavin enjoyed Tristian’s cock immensely. In his hands, in his mouth, and then eventually deep inside him.

Tristian caught his breath as he got dressed and sat at the table; and tried to hide his arousal. He need not begin thinking of Gavin right now. They had been caught, and Gavin was long gone. It was best to never think of it again.

The Captain sat beside him and tore off a chunk of bread and bit into a plum, watching Tristian as he chewed. A bit of a juice caught at the Captain’s lips and dripped into his beard. Tristian poured himself a cup of ale and drank a long draught.

“Are you feeling rested?” The Captain inquired smoothly.

Tristian tried to sit up straighter, like the nobleman he was, and ate some berries and buttered a slice of bread. “I am very much rested, thank you, Captain.” He hoped his voice sounded formal enough. After all, this man was here to serve him. Protect and serve him. Last night would not change the fact that Tristian was the son of the great Duke of Sayne. The Captain was no better than one of Tristian’s attendants.

“It’s going to be a long night,” Captain Erik said mildly. “We must make it to the next inn before day break. So be prepared for a quicker pace.”

Tristian’s shoulders automatically slumped. He suddenly felt as if he hadn’t slept at all. Frustration ticked within him like the hands of a clock. He wanted to go back to bed. He wanted to pleasure himself until he spent - and not think of Erik. But that was going to be impossible now.

“If you’re going to bathe and change your clothes, then we must notify the innkeeper shortly. We will need to leave within an hour’s time.”

“That’s not long enough at all,” Tristian huffed. He rubbed his cheeks and chin. He couldn’t stand to feel the rough stubble on his face. He had his barber shave him every morning. Although the fair hairs would hardly be noticeable, Tristian wanted time to groom himself properly.

He stood from the table taking another swig of ale and another bite of bread. He dabbed his lips with a napkin and went to find his satchel. “Since you have deprived me of my attendants and my barber, I will need at least two hours to prepare.” He took out the mirror and examined his face. “It is only fair. You would not let me have my own room, my attendants, nor any of the things I am accustomed to.”

Tristian felt a delicious shiver in anticipation of the Captain’s anger at his words. Would the Captain take him over his knee again? Would he spank his bare arse until it hurt? It was a mania Tristian knew was appealing but did not know why. It was his little slip of madness to balance out his beauty. The two things about him which had first intrigued Lionel.

But the Captain merely stood with that same triumphant look upon his face and said, “Very well.” And left the room.

Stunned, Tristian stood in place for a few moments. Then he quickly reached into his satchel and began to get ready for the next part of their journey.

* * *

“Why did you give him so long?” Blaine was muttering when Tristian emerged from the inn.

Erik was momentarily distracted by the little fool. Even in the full moonlight Erik could see just how perfect and lovely Tristian was. He was fresh from a bath, sleek, and fully noble. He wore a green velvet vest over a white undershirt and black breeches. His riding boots were even polished. His thick, golden hair was still damp and combed behind his ears. Erik hated how it made him soften on the inside. He wanted to whip the boy just for making him feel thus.

“Don’t worry,” Erik mumbled to Blaine. “He will regret such liberties when we ride.”

Tristian scowled at them all as he went to his horse. “I would have been ready within an hour had my attendants been allowed to accompany me.”

Erik said nothing and watched as Tristian struggled to get his satchel tied to the saddle on his horse. For a second, Erik wanted to dismount and help him, but he worried over what his men would think. And it struck him that this was the first time he’d ever been concerned over such. They’d always been loyal to one another. There was no point in indulging the little fool. Tristian’s vanity and folly had put them two hours behind on their journey. Erik planned to make Tristian pay for that time. In more ways than one.

Once Tristian had his satchel secure and mounted his horse, Erik led them away from the inn. His men took their places surrounding Tristian as they proceeded to the high road. Erik hoped it would be a peaceful ride, as his senses went on alert. He led them in a leisurely pace at first to get their horses warmed up. He could tell his was a little spooked riding at night.

Wordlessly, they rode on for nearly three-quarters of an hour. Erik turned around a few times to make sure the little brat was still there. He hadn’t heard a peep out of him yet. It surprised him.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Tristian barked. “Do you like what you see, Captain?”

Facing frontwards again, Erik’s jaw tightened and he heard Orion’s and Janson’s throats clear behind him. Those two knew about Erik’s particular inclinations. What they thought of it, Erik did not know and he did not care. He supposed Able and Blaine knew as well, but it was not something to be spoken about. Not something to ever be asked nor admitted to.

“Tell me, sir,” Erik said lightly. “Why did your mother and father run off and leave you behind?”

It was a stupid question to ask and Erik knew it. He knew precisely why the Duke and Duchess had run off and left their only son forgotten. But he could not help himself. It was a cruel jab in response to Tristian’s sharp tongue.

When there was nothing but hostile silence behind him, Erik said, “It seems to me that a young man such as yourself, with such status and importance, would have been whisked away to safety. Your father’s only heir and your mother’s only child…it’s intriguing.” He turned his head slightly. “Don’t you think?”

Erik could practically feel the waves of rage coming off of Tristian. Before he could speak again, Tristian opened his mouth.

“You will do well, Captain, not to ponder on matters that do not concern you.” Tristian’s tone was biting. “Perhaps you should be thinking of your own mother and father. And what they might think of their son, a ruffian who shows his naked prick to a nobleman.”

Erik heard the snickering behind him. It vexed him, although he knew his men were not making fun of him outright. He turned his head slightly to see the little fool riding behind him in his periphery. “A naked prick his lordship seems to remember well.”

The snickering turned into outright laughter. Erik could not see them, but he knew those sapphire eyes were dilated with rage.

“We must quicken our pace, sir,” Erik said casually. “If we are to arrive at the inn before daybreak.” With that, he prompted his horse into a canter.

There was a huff of irritation behind him as the handsome fool did the same. Erik grinned to himself. Then quickly, wiped it away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be a little late with the next chapter...sorry...got behind :(
> 
> But thank you so much for reading so far! Even if you hate it, still glad you gave it a chance!

The sky was just beginning to lighten from black to blue as they rode up to the inn.

Erik had Blaine and Orion riding alongside him, and he turned to look behind them. The little brat was plodding along, slumped and frowning, while Janson and Able rode beside him. There was just enough moonlight for Erik to see Tristian’s beautiful sapphire eyes flashing with rage.

Erik tried not to smirk and patiently waited for his men and the little fool to catch up. They’d ridden hard for the last few hours. It was imperative they reach the inn quickly and pass by Nesworth. It was the night of the week that the village people often went to the pubs and drank. An intoxicated mob would have been far worse than an outraged one, if they’d been spotted on the high road. Erik did not think the people of Nesworth hated Tristian as much as his father, but a drunken, angry mob cares not and cannot distinguish.

When Tristian’s horse finally reached Erik, the young man glared at him. They’d also ridden at such a trying pace because of the little fool’s vanity. He’d put them two hours behind. It was selfish, and it put them all in danger. Erik was glad to see the spoiled brat so infuriated.

“You brute,” Tristian snapped. “What was the hurry? You and your ruffians had no right to rush me!”

“It is for your own safety, sir,” Erik said mildly.

“You lie!” Tristian dismounted. “Your mistreatment of me will not go unreported. Just wait until I tell my father!”

“Go right on ahead, sir,” Erik said with pointed disinterest. “And will his lordship be sure to tell his father _everything_?”

Tristian’s face grew scarlet and his nostrils flared.

Erik gave the little fool a smirk, then he turned to his men. “We shall rest here. Let’s take our horses to the stables.”

Before long, the innkeeper’s wife had shown them to their rooms and brought them wine and bread. Erik ignored the outrage on Tristian’s face, as he closed the door to their shared room. Erik calmly removed his riding gloves while Tristian stood in his periphery, fists clenched.

“I do not wish to share a room with you,” Tristian said harshly.

Erik sat at the table and drank from his water gourd. He tore off a piece of the bread.

“Did you hear me?” Tristian snapped. “I demand you get me that other fellow at once! If I must share a room with one of your swine, then I would rather it be with him!”

Erik ate the bread and thought idly about the next leg of their journey. They would be long past Nesworth, but the roads leading to Lord Dalston’s were the most dangerous this time of year. Thieves would often camp in the forests during the summer months, waiting for travelers to rob.

“Captain,” Tristian demanded. “You will listen to me!”

Erik and his men were armed with swords, but it was the little fool Erik worried about. He might cause them trouble if they did run into any thieves by running his little shit-mouth.

“Captain! Listen to me, damn you!”

Erik stood abruptly, knocking the chair askew, and he walked upon Tristian, backing the boy against the far wall. Erik stared down into those sapphires, boiling with rage…and something yearning.

Erik gripped Tristian’s wrist. “The young sir seems to have lost his memory and his sense.”

“Unhand me.” Tristian yanked his arm from Erik’s grip. “I told you I do not want you in my room! Get me the other fellow this instant!”

Erik pressed up against the boy. “Is that what the young sir really wishes?”

Tristian’s look of outrage faltered.

Erik stared down at Tristian a moment longer, then said, “I will stay in this room. I will not subject another one of my men to your little tantrums. Are we clear?”

Tristian averted his gaze and said nothing.

“Very well.” Erik moved away from him. “Come eat and then get ready for bed. We have another long night ahead of us.”

* * *

Tristian chose the bed closest to the door.

Although, he did not intend on escaping or anything. He was not afraid of the Captain. Nor was he planning on going anywhere else. But he wanted the Captain to see his purposeful choice. He wanted it to irritate the man.

Tristian could not help himself. Something about Captain Erik made him want to be difficult and obstinate. He wanted to challenge him. Anger him.

He sat at the table and ate some of the bread, but it had grown cold. Tristian sneakily watched the Captain as he sat on the edge of the other bed and removed his boots. They were not as fine as ones his father wore, but Tristian noted they looked to be special-made. He wondered how Erik would have money for such.

“Is there something in particular that you enjoy watching?” The Captain said idly without taking his eyes away from his task.

Tristian huffed and looked away.

“You should be careful,” Erik continued in his mild tone. “Some men in my employ would find it an offense for another man to watch him so closely.”

Tristian scowled. “Men in your employ would find it an offense to behave with decorum.”

The Captain began to remove his doublet. “I believe the young sir should follow his own instruction.”

“And I believe the ruffian should remember who are his betters!”

Before Tristian could take another bite of the cold bread, Erik was across the room in a flash, snatching him by the arm and pulling him out of the chair.

“Would you like the ruffian to show you precisely how rough he can be?” The Captain’s voice was low and almost menacing.

It was enough to make Tristian think he should hold his tongue. Or press his luck.

“Unhand me!” Tristian pulled his arm away. “I will be sure to tell my father how you have treated me! How you have manhandled me as if I were a convict!”

Erik looked at him with amusement. “So the young sir has said already. And yet you could not answer when I asked if you might tell your father of all the ruffian has done to you.”

Tristian felt his face grow warm. And his cock grow hard.

The Captain brought his face close, whispering in Tristian’s ear. “Will you tell your father of how you sucked my cock? Of how I spent in your mouth and you swallowed it as if it were the finest cream?”

Tristian pushed Erik away. “You forced me. You violated me.” Tristian hated how saying the very words made his cock grow harder still.

The Captain looked him over for a few seconds, then turned to go back to his bed. But Tristian could not help himself and the wickedness contained within him. He reached out and tugged hard at Erik’s hair, tugging on it as if it were reins on a horse.

“Do not walk away,” Tristian said haughtily, “when a nobleman speaks to you!”

Erik rounded on him, pushing Tristian down onto the bed. Tristian cursed and shouted in outrage as the Captain turned him over on his belly and began pulling his breeches down. Tristian felt the cool air of the room on his bare arse right before it stung with the force of the Captain’s strike. The Captain struck Tristian’s arse again and again. Tristian cursed him and swore, but his cock swelled and before long he was moaning with delight.

The Captain suddenly stopped his spanking and lifted Tristian’s hips, exposing him. Tristian tried to move away, but the Captain reached around to grab Tristian’s face, slipping two fingers between Tristian’s lips. Tristian attempted to turn his head, but the Captain held him still. Tristian opened his mouth to let the Captain’s fingers inside where Tristian licked and wet them with his tongue.

“And now,” hissed the Captain, “the arrogant little fool will make up for the two hours he cost us before. For his vanity!”

Tristian spat Erik’s fingers from his mouth. “It is your fault! You did not allow my attendants to accompany me!” He felt the Captain’s fingers at his entrance, and he tried to move his hips away. “Stop that this minute! I order you!”

But the Captain did not listen. His fingers stroked Tristian’s entrance, making Tristian tremble with anticipation. He felt one of the Captain’s fingers push its way inside him. He cried out, in partial desire and in partial outrage.

Erik slid the finger in past the ring of muscle. He leaned over to whisper in Tristian’s ear. “Be silent. You do not want my men to come in and see a Duke’s son such as yourself being violated by a ruffian such as me, do you?”

Tristian whimpered as the Captain pushed his finger in deeper.

“That’s it,” Erik said softly. “You will be a good boy for me now, won’t you?”

Tristian whimpered again, and tried once more to move away, but the Captain held him fast to the bed. The Captain inserted another finger, opening up Tristian more. His fingers brushed over the sensitive spot inside Tristian, turning the boy’s cries of protest into cries of pleasure.

Just as Tristian felt sure he would spend just from Erik’s fingers, Erik removed them. He positioned the young man so his arse was lifted up on his knees, and Tristian could hear the sound of Erik removing his breeches. Then he heard the sound of a bottle opening and there was the scent of something exotic and sensual.

“You’re a brute,” Tristian cursed weakly. “An imbecile! Just wait until my father hears what you have done!” Then Tristian yelped when he felt the wet tip of the man’s cock rest between his arse cheeks.

Tristian wasn’t sure whether to wriggle away or beg the Captain to fuck him. His cock was stiff as stone and leaking his dew on the bed clothes. He wanted so much for the Captain to touch it. And he hated so much that he wanted the Captain to touch it.

“You will answer me this time,” the Captain said, rubbing the tip of his cock over Tristian’s entrance. “Have you ever been fucked?”

“What the devil?” Tristian swore. “You are mad! Let me go!”

Erik laughed a deep rolling laugh in his chest. “I know as well as you that you do not wish for that.” He pushed the very tip of his cock just inside Tristian, making the boy cry out. “Tell me of the last time you were fucked.” He pushed his cock in a little more. “Tell me of the last man to take you and fill you with his spend.”

Tristian’s knees trembled and the girth of the Captain’s prick stretched him as he slowly entered. But there was oil to lubricate, helping alleviate some of the burning. Still, Tristian grit his teeth and cried out once more.

“Was his cock as big as mine?” The Captain asked.

“N-n-no,” Tristian stammered. He bit his lip, and reached underneath his hips to stroke his own straining prick.

“Mmmm.” The Captain pushed in deeper. “Did he bend you over or set you upon his lap?”

Tristian groaned and closed his eyes. The burning pain from Captain Erik’s cock breaching his entrance felt deliciously bad. Wrong. He remembered what Erik had said about delivering him to his father fucked and filled.

“Answer me!” Erik slapped his arse, making Tristian yelp.

“He - he bent me over,” Tristian stammered out as the Captain pushed in deeper. “He bent me over in his study, over his desk.”

The Captain’s hips were now resting against Tristian’s backside. He could feel the tickle of curly hairs and the strangely satisfying and yielding sensation of being completely filled. He drew in a shaky breath.

“Tell me more.” Erik groaned softly. He began to pull out a little and thrust back in. “Tell me of how he fucked you. Was it hard and quick, or slow and deep?”

Tristian could hardly speak from Erik penetrating him and from the swift motions of his own hand.

“It - it was, it was quick…,” Tristian stopped and let out a moan as the Captain began to thrust into him at a moderate pace. “He bent me over, held me down…,”

“Yes…,”

“He gave me a good fucking, for I’d disobeyed him…”

“You were a bad boy…”

“Yes…”

“And needed to be punished…”

Tristian groaned, feeling the Captain pounding harder into him. “I was insolent and needed correction.”

The Captain’s thrusts became quicker, harder, rubbing against Tristian’s most sensitive spot. He’d first discovered the gland inside him before he’d gone to the academy. He’d had a particularly attentive riding instructor. One he’d like to infuriate.

And arouse.

Tristian felt the Captain lean over him, placing his hands on either side of Tristian’s shoulders, to fuck him as if he were a dog.

“You are wicked…,” the Captain’s breath brushed over Tristian’s ear. “You are vain, a folly.”

“And you are nothing but a brute,” Tristian rejoined.

“A brute who fucks you better than the last man to do it!”

Tristian groaned at this because it was true. He hated it, but it was quite true! The Captain’s cock was bigger than Lionel’s and the ruffian had angled Tristian’s hips to get deeper than Lionel ever had.

It was all so much - the Captain’s rough fucking and Tristian stroking his own cock - that he knew he was going to spend any minute.

“Now tell me,” the Captain said hoarsely. “Did he fill you with his seed?”

“Y - yes…no, n - no…not the last time…we were, we were…oh!” Before Tristian could finish he felt the Captain’s warm cream spurting inside him. Captain Erik let out a low groan as his hips bucked against Tristian’s arse, as the Captain filled him.

It was all too much and Tristian cried out, spending all over his own hand.

* * *

Gasping, Erik leaned over the boy, breathing harshly into his neck.

He was sweating through his undershirt, and the little fool was trembling beneath him. Erik quickly pulled himself out of Tristian, drops of his seed running down the boy’s legs, and fell on his back beside him.

Tristian collapsed on his stomach beside him and Erik could see him watching in his periphery. He’d been wanting to fuck that little shit-mouthed fool senseless since they’d started. But he didn’t have to do it now, here, at an inn with his men so close by.

And he certainly hadn’t expected it to be so… _good_.

Tristian had been so tight and warm, it made Erik wonder if he’d really been fucked before. Had he made up the previous time? Nonetheless, Erik had liked to hear of it. To hear of the vain, arrogant little brat bent over a desk for being disrespectful. Erik decided it would be Tristian’s punishment now. He would have fun with him until they had to deliver him to his father. And Tristian would be fucked and filled and Erik would have his bastard father’s money.

“What are you smiling about?” Tristian muttered.

Erik pushed his shoulder. “Get out of the bed and go over to your own.”

“But this is my bed! I picked it out!”

Erik slapped Tristian on his rear. “Go!”

Reluctantly, Tristian got up and pulled up his breeches. Erik saw the wet spot underneath him, where the young man had spent on the bed clothes. Erik sat up, gathered up the covers, and tossed them in a basket. He went over to the other bed and stripped it down, taking those covers for his own bed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tristian snapped, putting his hands on his hips.

“You made a mess,” Erik said evenly, feeling heavy with sleep. “Clean it up or go fetch yourself some clean bed clothes. I care not.”

“You’re horrible!” Tristian whined. “How dare you! I will tell my father of how you left me without covers on cold nights!”

“It is daylight now, you fool!” Erik shouted. “And there is not a hint of chill. Shut your trap and go to sleep!”

Erik turned in his bed and heard Tristian flop down in a fit onto his. As he began to drift off he tried not to think of how he should not have fucked the young son of a Duke. But more and more he was beginning to not only think the arrogant fool deserved it, he also _wanted_ it.

Erik turned his head slightly. “What were you going to say? About the last time. When you and that man were…?”

Tristian huffed, his voice flat and sleepy. “We were caught.”

* * *

They were galloping about the countryside, a full moon looming over them.

The pace jolted Tristian, mostly because he was sore. And mostly because he was tired. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep. To be sure, he’d been tired after the Captain was through with him, but he’d also been bothered. He could still feel the Captain’s spend leaking out of him. Lionel had never given him so much, and his cock wasn’t nearly as thick. Tristian forced himself not to think of it. The Captain was nothing but a brute. And that was all. A horrible, horrible brute!

But such a handsome brute! Sweating and breathing over top of him while he fucked him! He wanted to see the Captain’s face next time…if there would be a next time. Tristian wondered if he could just be insolent enough, he could make that happen…

The Ogre rode behind Tristian and the other two, the Dolt and the one who’d been muttering before rode on either side of him. He hated these men. They looked at him as if he were less than they were. He, the son of the great Duke of Sayne! They should learn their place! And besides, coming up with nicknames for the ruffians distracted Tristian for a bit, but then he became irritated and the fast pace made him anxious.

“Why are we going so fast still?” He called to the Captain.

“His lordship must get to the next inn safely.” The Captain shouted back.

Positively livid, Tristian tugged the reins of his horse. He was sore from the Captain’s cock and rough fuck and so tired. He was not going to ride like this again for another night. Absolutely not! The Captain may be older than he, but Tristian was still a nobleman and a man in his own right. It was _he_ who decided their pace - not anyone else!

The horse reared up in surprise, but Tristian kept his balance. The rest of the men continued to gallop off into the moonlit meadow, until the Ogre slowed and whistled, causing them all to stop and turn around.

The Captain rode up to Tristian and in the moonlight Tristian could see the anger on his face. “I have had _enough_ of your foolishness. I am prepared to leave you here, alone and defenseless, and let your father buy your life from a gang of thieves!”

“I am not as defenseless as you think,” Tristian retorted. “So, go on then and leave me!” He shook as soon as the words came out of his mouth, feeling reckless. He almost hoped the men would leave him so he could return to the inn. There he could rest for as long as he liked, and they could explain to their father why his only son had been left behind.

The men hesitated near him, looking to the Captain to find out what they might do. Before he could speak, however, Tristian heard some noise behind him.

A trampling came from the forest, snapping branches and shuffling grasses, and when Tristian turned, there were figures circling them in the meadow. As they got closer, Tristian saw they were men.

Men with knives.

Swords.

There were even a handful of women. One carried an ax. Another a spear.

Tristian’s heart shot into this throat. _Thieves_.

He had heard there were large gangs living in the forests, but he had never seen them. And this gang was particularly large. Tristian looked to the Captain, who had his hand on his belt where his sword hung. The other four men did the same, slowly, looking around. Tristian was afraid. They were far outnumbered.

“Steady there,” came a gruff voice from the circle closing in on them. “Let us see your hands and there’ll be no wounds to clean.”

Tristian watched as the Captain shot him a look and began to lift his arms. Ogre and Dolt did the same, but the other two hesitated.

And then it all happened so quickly.

Tristian couldn’t be sure who drew their sword first, who dismounted next, and who charged into the circle. He heard shouting and the clashing of metal. He heard a growl, and cries, and in the moonlight he could not tell who was fighting who, who was going after who, who was pulled from his horse and which horse ran away in fear.

Tristian was frozen. He could not move, his mind could not stir. He watched the scene in front of him in a horrified stupor.

And then his limbs seemed to move ahead of his thoughts. Hands pulling the reins, heels jabbing the horse in the sides, and he was galloping into the woods, escaping. Cowardice pricked his insides like needles and fear squeezed his heart. He could not see where he was going as the horse wove through the underbrush and tall trees. He trusted the beast would flee in fear, for its survival, and take Tristian along for the ride.

Behind him, Tristian could hear the clashing of swords through the blood rushing in his ears. And there was another sound - the sound of another set of galloping hooves. Tristian was too afraid to turn to look behind him. But he flicked his head back to see a figure chasing him into the woods. He could not see in the moonlight if it was a thief or one of the Captain’s men. He flicked the reins of his horse to make the beast go faster.

For several minutes, it seemed endless. The pounding hooves, the sound of branches crunching underfoot, and a mere echo of the skirmish far behind him in the meadow. Tristian felt half-blinded, deprived of one of his senses, but he could not stop, could do nothing but hang on and run away in fear.

As the horse tore through a hollow, Tristian turned round again to see if the figure was gaining. A familiar voice called out to him, a shout. And then there was a sharp pain, a burst of spots before Tristian’s eyes, and he was falling, falling, falling until everything was black.


	6. Chapter 6

Erik should have just let him go.

He should have allowed the little fool to run off like a coward. Then he could simply report to the twice-damned Duke that his idiot son had escaped. And then the Duke would curse him for losing the boy, withhold the rest of the payment, and Erik and his men could proceed to their next assignment. The Duke of Sayne was just cold-hearted enough to simply accept his son was lost, Erik was sure.

But not completely sure.

And so Erik could not let him go.

It was as he kicked one of the thieves away from his horse, reaching for his sword, when he saw Tristian galloping away. For a few seconds, Erik was torn. His men had all dismounted and were fighting off the attackers. They had fought off outlaws and crooks before, in defense of themselves and in defense of their charges, but this was different somehow.

And before Erik could stop himself, he was leaving the scene and chasing after Tristian.

Even though the Duke was cold-hearted, he and his men could be held responsible by the laws if the boy were killed. They could be hanged or jailed if Tristian were found dead in the forest. And being the little fool that he was, being selfish and vain, Tristian just might get himself killed.

So that was the reasoning Erik gave himself as he chased after the boy. The logic and explanation that made him abandon his men, the reassurance that they would be be able to hold their own without him and that the thieves would be running away in defeat when he returned with the Duke’s son.

But Tristian was far ahead, his horse fleeing in fear, and when Erik was able to get closer, call out to him, the thick branch seemed to come out of nowhere.

Erik was able to see the silhouette of Tristian, his head smacking against the branch, and his fall from the horse. One foot caught in the stirrup and the horse dragged him a few steps before he was loose and the horse galloped away. Erik hated how panic seized his heart at the sight. He hated how true fear and worry for the boy stirred in the pit of his stomach.

When he stopped his horse, there was the sound of crashing through the woods far behind him. Fearful the thieves had come after them, he quickly put Tristian over his horse and fled. He knew it was only outright providence that he found the hut. Thankfully, it appeared to be abandoned, and he took the unconscious young man inside to safety.

Now it was nearing dawn, and the sounds of someone crashing through the forest had ceased. Erik glanced over to Tristian laying upon a mat inside the hut. He’d tied a handkerchief around the boy’s head. There was a large lump forming on the side and scrapes on his cheeks and hands from being dragged. He was still unconscious but otherwise appeared fine. Erik did not want to move him or leave the shelter until there was enough daylight to see by. Erik did not know if his men had come after him or the thieves.

All was quiet. It was unnerving.

Erik sat down by the boy, as he tossed and turned in an unconscious fit. Erik hoped very much that he’d done the right thing and that his men were all right.

* * *

Bright colors swirled behind Tristian’s eyes.

He felt content to watch them until a jarring pain began to accompany the patterns. He tried to move his limbs, but they were so heavy. And when he tried to move there were aches and pains unlike he’d ever felt before. It was almost as if he’d been struck in the head…

Tristian’s eyes flew open, and then squinted shut. The daylight was bright and only enhanced his head pains. Birds chirped nearby, and there was the scent of woodsmoke. He slowly turned his head and groaned.

“And his lordship wakes,” came a familiar voice.

Tristian was at a loss for only a handful of seconds before he recognized the tone as the Captain’s.

“Ohhh…,” he turned his head to the other side. “What has happened? Where am I?”

A musky scent filled Tristian’s nostrils as the Captain drew near. The Captain knelt down next to him. “Do you remember anything?” Concern creased his brow.

“I remember there were thieves,” Tristian began. He tried to sit up, but his head ached too much. “They surrounded us….and then…” He trailed off as the brief flashes of scenes strung together. He began to feel ashamed. And perplexed. Where had the Captain come from? Hadn’t he left him behind?

Behind like a coward.

Tristian tried to mask his shame with irritation. “Where have you taken me?” He glanced around at their surroundings. “Are we in a hovel?”

Truthfully, the shelter appeared primitive but cozy. It looked to be a one-room shack. The walls were put together with thick slats of wood. A tall stone fireplace was in one corner and there was a frame for a bed in another. The ceiling was tightly thatched and slanted down sharply on one side. On the opposite wall from the fireplace were two tiny windows with a stove in between.

Tristian was puzzled as to where they could be. Certainly not another inn.

The concerned creases in the Captain’s forehead shifted to vexation. “I had to find shelter after you struck your head, running off like a buffoon. It was sheer providence that I found this place. It appears to be abandoned.” The Captain stood upright, gazing down from his tall form. “We were chased into the wood, there was chaos. As for now, I have no idea how far we are from where I left my men.” He sighed and glanced towards the windows. “I must venture out when I know it is safe to leave you alone.”

Tristian managed to lift himself upon his elbows. “Is there any water? I am parched.”

Erik offered him his water gourd, and Tristian took a long drink. The Captain took the water gourd back to take a drink himself and gazed at Tristian warily.

“Do you feel dizzy? Is your vision blurred?”

Tristian blinked a few times. “My vision is fine, but I am quite dizzy.” He lifted a hand to the aching side of his head. His fingertips brushed a cloth over a tender goose egg just a few inches above his ear. It caused another shot of pain and he hissed through it.

“Don’t touch it.” The Captain knelt down again and brushed Tristian’s hand away. “It’s quite the bump. You have some scrapes upon your cheek and hands. I cleansed them with water last night.”

The thought of the Captain’s hands upon him made Tristian’s tummy flutter. He hated it. “Ohhhh,” he moaned so Erik would touch his hand again. He liked how the man lingered close, and disliked how it made him feel. He was grumpy, aching, and hungry. “Oh, my head aches. Do you have any powders or perhaps a draught?”

The Captain sniffed. “I have nothing of the sort. Just lie down. I saw worse wounds in the King’s Guard. You’ll be all right if you rest.”

Erik turned to the hearth and stirred the wood and pine cones with a metal rod. Tristian watched him for a moment or two, then asked, “You were in the King’s Guard?”

“Yes. Many years go.” He unlatched the door to the shack. “I heard a brook nearby.” He held up the gourd. “I need to go fill this, if you’ll be all right?”

Tristian nodded and lay back on the mat. He closed his eyes and heard the Captain leave. The longer he lay still, the less his head ached, but the mat was uncomfortable on his back. Tristian slowly sat up, wincing at a flicker of pain in his neck. He looked around the shack and spotted the Captain’s saddlebag. He had only a second of reservation for going through the private things of another man, but he reminded himself that the man was nothing more than a hired servant and he was injured. It was a matter of circumstance.

The Captain’s bag contained clothing mostly, but Tristian found a couple of blankets and the covering for a straw tick. There was no straw in sight and all the movement increased his dizziness, so he filled the covering with a thick blanket and spread it over the bed frame. He blew a cloud of dust from the headboard and cringed. He did not want to lay upon a dusty bed, but his head was beginning to ache again. He snatched the other blanket, folded it up under his head, and lay down.

For a time, Tristian grew weary and dozed off. The shack was so quiet and peaceful, with the sounds of birds singing outside and a soft breeze through the trees. It relaxed him in a way he had not felt in a long time; perhaps never. Away at school, there were always sounds of others - snores, whisperings, and the tossing and turning of the restless. At his family’s manor, there were always the sounds of the servants moving about, his father’s loud and drunken card games, and his mother’s hysterics. Day and night, there was noise and Tristian could never truly rest, often startled awake by the sounds. He thought he’d find some relief at the academy, but he supposed he’d never truly found rest before.

Just as Tristian fell into a deep slumber, there was noise inside the shack that woke him. The Captain returned with a full water gourd but his arms were full of something else. He placed everything on a small table by the stove, and Tristian tried not to be irritated with all the noise.

The Captain glanced over to him. “I thought you were resting.”

“I was,” Tristian replied gruffly. “What is all that on the table?”

“There was a garden behind the shack. It is over run with weeds, but there were some edible plants growing. I thought you might be hungry.”

For a moment, Tristian was touched by the gesture. Then he narrowed his eyes and became haughty once more. “You do not expect me to eat dirty berries and food for rabbits, do you?” He sat up and peered over at what the Captain had brought. “It is covered in dirt and perhaps insects as well. And there is no meat. This is not a proper supper.”

The Captain turned to look at him, his expression amused. “Suite yourself. I am famished, myself.”

Tristian watched as the Captain found a pot by the stove. He rinsed it clean with water from the gourd, then poured in some more water. He began to prepare the produce by cleaning and chopping it with a knife from his pocket. He lit a fire in the stove and stirred in what looked like a variety of root vegetables, greens, and herbs. Tristian wanted to smile as he watched. The Captain was very resourceful. Tristian found it impressive, and he didn’t want to.

Tristian tried to sleep again, but the Captain whistled a merry tune as he cooked, and it annoyed him. And soon the scent of what was boiling in the pot began to entice him. The bump on Tristian’s head throbbed, and it reminded him how hungry and thirsty he was.

After what looked like a soup was ready, the Captain took it from the stove to the table. “After this, I’m going to ride back to the meadow to check…,” his expression darkened. “But I am sure they got away.”

Tristian knew he meant his men. He hadn’t thought about the Captain riding off and leaving them. It had been a brave thing to do. Tristian wanted to be angry. He wanted to be insulted at the dirty hovel Captain Erik had taken him to, and how he’d come after him and frightened him so that Tristian had hit his head. And perhaps the only reason Erik had done so was to be sure he’d get to fuck him again, Tristian thought about it all so cynically.

But the man had saved him, when - after all Tristian had done and said - he could have left him in the forest to be eaten by wild animals. Tristian shuddered.

Tristian turned away from the Captain and fingered the blanket under his head. “Thank you, Captain. For bringing me here and dressing my wound.”

There was silence for a few moments, then: “Rest up, sir. We still have a long way to go.”

* * *

It was more or less worse than he’d feared.

Lying dead in the meadow were two of the thieves.

But also Janson.

Erik removed his cap and placed it over his heart. Janson had been only a couple of years younger than Erik. It appeared the man had been stabbed. Clumps of dirt had been kicked up and grasses trampled where the fighting had taken place. Erik was not surprised the thieves had left their two comrades behind. But he was dismayed that Janson had been left. It meant his other men were either captured or had no choice but to escape before they could get Janson’s body.

Erik felt a stir of dread and looked around the meadow. He was annoyed to feel a tear form at the corner of one eye. But then again, it was all right to cry for a friend. He had to go back to the abandoned hut to find something to dig with. He needed to make sure he gave Janson a proper burial.

When he went back the little fool questioned him and Erik did not want to speak. It was the fault of this imbecile that they’d been surrounded by the thieves. He found a shovel in the corner of the shack, and turned to leave, his movements angry and gruff.

“Oh, dear,” called the Duke’s son from the bed. “Has someone died?”

Erik paused at the door. “No thanks to you.”

Tristian slowly sat up and got out of the bed. “Let me come, too. I want to see.”

“Why?” Erik turned to him and looked at him incredulously. “What on _earth_ would you want to see?”

“I want to see for myself what I escaped from,” Tristian said simply, approaching him. “And pray over the dead.”

Erik snorted.

“Someone must,” Tristian insisted. “It is only right.”

Erik sighed heavily. “Fine, then. Come along.”

Since Tristian’s horse had run off, he had to ride behind Erik back to the meadow. With the young man behind him, their legs touching, Erik felt far too aroused for what he was about to do. It irritated him to no end. Janson was a good man and deserved Erik’s focus right then. Erik made his horse gallop to get there quicker, but it jolted Tristian against him and he felt the young man’s chest on his back and Tristian briefly grabbed his elbow.

“Be careful!” Tristian snapped. “I almost fell off, and I am already injured!”

Erik muttered not much of an apology. When they got to the meadow, he dismounted and Tristian remained on the horse. Erik looked around and found a nice shady spot by a little grove of trees. He began to dig. He became so absorbed in his task that he failed to notice Tristian had dismounted and was coming over to him.

“Stay on the horse,” Erik demanded. “You can escape if some of the thieves return.”

“I want to see who has died,” Tristian retorted.

“Why would you want to see death?” Erik wiped sweat from his brow. “Truly, it is a strange wish.”

Tristian caught sight of Janson and his face paled.

Erik followed his gaze. “He was a good man. He did not deserve to die in this manner.” _And all for the safety of this little fool_ , he thought viscously. But the little fool had been injured in his escape, so Erik supposed that was fitting. If only the knock to the head had knocked the rudeness out of him.

“Your brutes left him here?” Tristian frowned. “How callous.”

Erik continued his digging. “They may not have had a choice.” He dreaded to think what might have happened to them. Guilt gnawed in his belly. He should have stayed and fought with them. It would have been the honorable thing to do. He should have let this little imbecile fend for himself.

“Go back to the horse,” Erik ordered.

“I will stand wherever I please,” Tristian retorted.

Erik was ready to order him again, but he glanced at Tristian with amusement. He looked rather silly and not so noble with the handkerchief tied around his head. His fine clothes were rumpled and dirty, and his flaxen hair a mess. Erik thought of taking him back to the hut to clean him up. He did not like the sharp jolt of arousal that thought made him feel.

Erik finished digging the hole, sweat pouring from his face. He dragged Janson’s body when Tristian came over to help him.

“What are you doing?” Erik asked him.

“It is my fault,” Tristian said solemnly. “This man has died because of me. The least that I can do is help you bury him.”

Erik looked at him dumbfounded.

Tristian rolled his eyes. “If you think I am as callous as you and your brutes, you are very much mistaken.”

Erik wondered if that knock to the head had knocked some sense into the boy after all. Together they dragged Janson over the grasses to his grave. Erik filled the hole, feeling annoying tears prick his eyes again, while Tristian brought over rocks to mark as a gravestone. When they were finished, Erik said a silent prayer in his head, but to his surprise, Tristian began to sing.

It was a song Erik had never heard before. A haunting and almost chanting melody. Goosebumps formed on Erik’s skin as Tristian’s voice sailed through the notes. Even more surprising was that this little fool could carry a tune. Any tune.

As the last note died away, Erik looked at Tristian incredulously. “You can sing?”

Tristian huffed. “Of course I can. I am the son of a Duke. There are many things that I can do.”

Erik wanted to say that perhaps the one thing Tristian could not do was be polite, but he was surprised at the boy’s talent.

After paying their respects to Janson, Erik decided he should probably provide a proper burial for the two thieves. One was a woman and the other a man. It was the right thing to do, he begrudgingly admitted, but Erik would be damned if the thieves should lie near his dear friend.

Erik decided they would have to come back the next day, however. He was tired, thirsty, and the little fool was holding his head as if it ached.

“Come along,” Erik directed him to the horse and Tristian went without argument.

As they rode back to the hut, with Tristian’s hands resting on Erik’s waist, Erik thought about the song Tristian had sung.

“What is the name of that song?”

“It is the ‘River Chant’ from the ancient days. I learned it when I went away to the academy.”

“Ah. I see.” Erik thought of the haunting melody once more and thought perhaps it was familiar. Something he’d heard while serving in the King’s Guard. He cleared his throat, keeping his voice low. “Your voice is most satisfactory, young sir.”

He could feel Tristian tense slightly. His voice was soft as he spoke. “Thank you, Captain.”

Erik felt Tristian’s grip on his waist tighten as they rode back to the hut in silence.


End file.
